One of the very great pleasures of reading mystery fiction scholarship comes from discovering "new" authors and titles to explore. This occurred several times over while reading Martin Edwards' masterful history of The Detection Club in The Golden Age of Murder. The list of authors and books to investigate quickly grew to two pages, and an increasingly hectic work schedule has only allowed the merest sampling of the many enticing suggestions. Edwards' description of the plot and merits of 1935's The Grindle Nightmare by Q. Patrick proved irresistible, and I soon tracked it down via college interlibrary loan and devoured the twisty story of savagery afflicted upon animals and humans alike one dark winter in a small New England town.

The tale is narrated by Douglas Swanson, a medical student sharing a house with the brilliant but enigmatic Dr. Antonio Conti, as violent events begin to shake the citizens of Grindle Valley. Roberta Tailford-Jones' pet marmoset goes missing, only to be found in the woods with its stomach slit open. Next is Bill Strong's goose, followed by little Polly Baines' kitten. Polly, a young child from a poor family, also disappears, and police chief Bracegirdle begins a search. Polly's savant-like brother, Mark Baines, falls under suspicion because of his unusually intense connection to all manner of plants and animals. The fondness does not seem to extend to people.

When a car pulls along a small dog named Sancho Panza in the shadows of the night, it is rescued just in time by Dr. Conti. But was the intervention a little too convenient? As events grow increasingly grim, Doug Swanson wonders if he really knows the state of his roommate's mind. Shortly thereafter, Jo Baines, father of Mark and Polly, requests a secret meeting with Swanson at the Mill Pool; our narrator finds the drowned Baines the next morning, each of his arms caught in a spring trap. Next, the participants of a coon-hunt (another ironic game of animal torture) discover the missing Polly Baines, who had been tied alive to the uppermost branches of a tree and left to die. As suspicions mount and vultures ceaselessly circle the valley, it becomes clear that at least one of the villagers – and perhaps more – has crossed over into madness.

As you can see, The Grindle Nightmare is hardly a typical Golden Age mystery cosy. Interestingly, it's also not exactly a horror tale, despite its gruesome plotline and effectively built sense of mounting dread and increasing entrapment. There's a fair-play mystery focus at its heart, and it’s a strong one. Q. Patrick – I will address the authors' curious lineage in a moment – offers a busy but never confusing series of events and populates Grindle Valley with suspects of engagingly specific psychological complexity. There's Roberta Tailford-Jones, a grating socialite whose unwelcome town flirtations seem to be a direct challenge to her impotent husband (rendered so from wartime shrapnel); Dr. Conti, whose Italian lineage and opaque moodiness make him an outsider to the earnest Swanson and an inscrutable character in the list of suspects; scion Seymour Alstone, who inhabits the role of the disliked but obeyed wealthy landowner; and grandson Gerald Alstone, a weak-willed young man who demonstrates a curious hero-worship for Peter Foote, a fellow student who is perhaps more attractive and self-assured than is healthy.

I'm tempted to state that the dark subject matter, concerned as it is with mutilation and torture of both people and pets, is due to the authors' American setting and perspective, but I'm not convinced of that. The urbane violence and toughness of hard-boiled fiction is entirely absent here and, as the title implies, the result is more nightmare than noir. The driving interest in this book seems to be the psychological; usually an exploration of the aberrant and abnormal, if used at all in classic detective fiction, is implied or alluded to without being made explicit. To that extent, The Grindle Nightmare of 1935 feels notably modern, with Freudian instances of same-sex attraction, cuckolding, impotency, societal malaise, and psychopathy to be found in the subtext and, equally often, on the surface. It all makes for a fascinating mix of the classic and the contemporary in style, story, and mood, and it is well worth seeking out.

Along with Martin Edwards, I am indebted to Curtis Evans over at The Passing Tramp blog, who has an excellent entry about the history of the writing consortium responsible for the titles published under the names Patrick Quentin and Q. Patrick. Four writers have contributed to the franchise over the decades, including award-winning playwright Hugh Wheeler, a collaborator with Stephen Sondheim on Sweeney Todd, Demon Barber of Fleet Street and A Little Night Music. Curt identifies the authors of The Grindle Nightmare as the franchise's anchor Richard Wilson Webb, writing with Martha Kelley. Check out his great website for more information!